


Didn't Start Perfect

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: First Date, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:42:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2578667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Didn't Start Perfect

**_ Didn’t Start Perfect _ **

Everything. Was Going. Wrong.

Just when Michael had gotten up the courage to ask his annoying, obnoxious, gorgeous, charming British co-worker out, mind you he couldn’t even look Gavin in the eye, instead having a rather vigorous staring contest with his feet, everything just goes to shit.

The plan was a nice dinner at a fancy-ish restaurant, followed by movies and maybe some drinks back at Michael’s place. Simple, right? Apparently, fucking, not.

“You have to be kidding me, I made this reservation a week ago,” Michael said through the phone. He was talking to the manager of the restaurant they were meant to be going to. ‘Meant to’ being the key phrase. There was a fire and the building was closed for repairs.

“ _We apologise for the inconvenience and we hope you have a nice day,”_ the manager said in a totally-not-sincere tone before hanging up on Michael. The auburn haired man stared at the phone incredulously for a moment before wrapping his fingers around it, miming strangling and imagining it was the dickhead manager’s throat. Michael groaned and pressed his fingers to his temples.

“Think Mogar. What could we do,” he said to himself pacing the room. He glanced at the time. 5:45pm. He was meant to pick Gavin up at 7 for their date at a nice restaurant. But that wasn’t fucking happening.

“A movie. Yeah, go to the movies, come back here, play some video games, go home. That’ll work,” Michael mumbled to himself, using his computer to check what was currently playing. “Crap. Shit. Complete shit. Fucking Twilight? Fuck that shit,” Michael growled, closing the window and shoving the mouse away as if it were the cause of all his problems. He allowed himself a quiet moment of flailing in panic before breathing deeply and composing himself.

“What does Gavin like doing?” He asked himself, pacing in his living room. A part of his brain mumbled ‘being a jackass’ but that part was immediately beaten down and shoved in a corner for being unhelpful.

“He likes....shit shit shit shitshitshit!” Michael started panicking again, harshly tapping his phone against his forehead, which made him jump when the phone started ringing. Michael stared at the caller ID. Gavin. Was he calling to cancel? Did he realise saying yes was a mistake? Did he like someone else? Was it Ray? It was totally Ray, that suave little bastard, using those stupid fucking brown eyes to seduce _his_ Gavin, and that fucking smooth New York shit. Michael answered the phone, growling out with no thought whatsoever, “I’m gonna kill that little shit.”

“ _What was that?”_ Gavin asked, sincerely confused.

“Oh. Nothing. What’s up Gavin?” Michael asked, feigning coolness.

“But you...never mind. Um, I was calling to say I’m not really feeling too well so I was wondering if we could maybe skip dinner and just hang out at your flat,” Gavin asked. Michael nearly sighed in relief. Gavin was somehow solving his problems for him.

“ _And you could cook me dinner. You’re always bragging about your kitchen skills.”_ The smirk was almost audible.

Never mind. Fucking Gavin was making it worse.

“Y-Yeah. Totally. D-Do you still need me to pick you up?” Michael stammered out, taking mental stock of the contents of his kitchen which was....nothing. Some booze, off milk and a half a carton of Chinese food from the previous night.

“Oh _no, Geoff’s going to the office anyway, forgot something apparently. So I’ll just scab a lift from him and walk to your place from there_ ,” Gavin said with a smile. Michael frowned.

“I can’t make you walk by yourself. I’ll meet you at the office gate at 7 and walk you here,” Michael insisted, his very well hidden gentlemanly side showing a little.

“ _Aren’t you sweet_ ,” Gavin teased and Michael was grateful they were on the phone rather than face to face so Gavin couldn’t see how Michael’s ears and cheeks went red.

“ _You’re blushing aren’t you.”_

“What? No,” Michael sputtered and ended on a very nervous laugh. “S-So I’ll see you at 7,” Michael said, fiddling with the edge of his adventure time hoodie, quickly noting that he’d have to change into something remotely nice.

“ _I look forward to it,”_ Gavin said with the stupid, smooth British voice that most definitely did NOT make Michael blush more and smile like a love-struck teenage girl. Before he came to his senses and hung up. Then he remembered all the shit he had to do. He bolted around the house, nearly destroying his room trying to find something clean and nice to wear before he ran out of the house and jumped in his car, peeling out and racing to the store and back. It took him 10 minutes to get what he needed to make Gavin a nice lasagne with a pint of diabetes-inducing-levels-of-chocolate ice-cream for dessert.

Michael bolted around, switching between cooking and cleaning his apartment, getting changed when the food was cooked. He grabbed his keys and his shoes, leaving the house in a deep red button down, a pair of nice, dark jeans and his AH converse. He jogged to the office, slowing down and composing himself when he spotted Gavin standing at the gate, the Brit waving as Geoff drove away before he noticed the New Jerseyan and instead, waved at him with that heart-melting smile on his face. Michael tripped over his own feet at the sight and blushed when Gavin giggled.

“Hey,” Gavin greeted, meeting Michael halfway. The Brit was wearing a pair of blue jeans, a white and grey-trimmed Henley t-shirt and the AH converse they always giggled about both having.

“Hey,” Michael replied, nervously shuffling his feet.

“So,” Gavin said, lengthening the ‘o’ to fill the silence. “Should we get going?” Gavin asked with a grin.

“Uh, yeah, let’s go,” Michael said with a nervous smile on his face.

Of course though, due to the luck Michael was having that day, (to quote Zombieland) things went from bad to shitstorm.

They opened the door to Michael’s apartment to find the room smelling of burnt food. Gavin stood in the doorway while Michael ran into the kitchen and pulled out the unsalvageable lasagne, cursing to himself as he opened windows and doors to air out the flat.

“You...you actually made dinner for me,” Gavin spoke up from the doorway. Michael looked up from his work and gazed at the Brit.

“You said...” Michael trailed off.

“I was kidding you donut. You had an hour, I didn’t expect you to,” Gavin said with a chuckle. Michael went red and continued cleaning up the mess. “But it was really nice that you did,” Gavin continued, moving in a little closer so only the counter was between he and Michael.

“Well...I...So uh we should order in,” Michael mumbled, finding the menu for the nearby Thai place, Gavin watching him with a fond smile.

**_ A few hours later _ **

“Nooo, bullshit,” Michael shouted, dropping his controller in his lap as his character on screen died for the final time that round. Gavin raised his arms in triumph, nearly hitting Michael in the face while doing so. They’d managed to move from their original positions on the couch, (nearly two feet between them) to the new one with Gavin’s legs resting over one Michael’s so he could run his bare foot up and down Michael’s leg if he felt so inclined. One of Michael’s arms was curled loosely around Gavin so his hand was cupped over Gavin’s hip.

Gavin put his arms down and looked at Michael, still with that shit-eating grin on his face. There was a still moment as Michael stared into Gavin’s green eyes, entranced.

“Hey...Michael,” Gavin said quietly, moving in a little closer, his hand moving slowly down to intertwine his fingers with the ones around his hip.

“Yeah?” Michael responded, feeling Gavin’s breath brush against his lips lightly.

“Think I could get an end-of-date kiss?” Gavin asked, his free hand making its way up to Michael’s neck. Michael’s lips curled up in a small smile just before he pressed them against Gavin’s.

The date didn’t start out perfect.

But the end of it was.


End file.
